Patriots
by HiM'e'iTSu
Summary: AU. Upon becoming a Prime Minister Gregory Lestrade expected not to be told what to do anymore. He couldn't have been more wrong. Mycroft/Lestrade.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is an AU. Mycroft is still the Mycroft Holmes we know, Greg, on the other hand, still being the man we are all familiar with, occupies a much more interesting position.

I have only some knowledge how British government works, all of it came from a couple of episodes of Doctor Who and a tv show Secret State, which actually is an inspiration behind this story. I hope I didn't mess it up too badly.

Also in this universe Mycroft's plan with the plane was successful.

**Brit-picking**: Riverdancer17. I am very grateful for all the help with my story.

**Summary**:_ AU. Upon becoming a Prime Minister Gregory Lestrade expected not to be told what to do anymore. He couldn't have been more wrong. Mycroft/Lestrade._

* * *

**_This is only the beginning..._**

It had been a difficult fight. Hard work, long hours of planning. Only getting home in the early hours of the morning, or not going to his flat at all, instead staying in the office, one day of work slowly merging into another. It had been worth it though; everything, missed family holidays and practically nonexistent personal life, had been worth this one moment.

The doors of his new office had closed behind him as he stepped over the threshold, leaving all the noise and people outside, giving him a moment of peace in what was going to be one hell of a life. Everything had changed, but not really. The same lonely sleepless nights awaited him but now he would have a satisfaction of knowing that he had made it – he had reached the top. He would be forever content in that feeling.

He breathed in slowly, the air filling his lungs, and let in out a sigh that turned his lips into a smile. This was it. The moment he had waited for his whole life, this was what he was always striving for. He got it. He made it.

With a smile he crossed the office and sat down behind a large desk.

Gregory Lestrade. Prime Minister of Great Britain.

It was only a couple of days later that his careful mental balance was broken.

It was late, sometime after eleven p.m., and Greg had already been considering going home. The day had been an easy one, nothing major warranting his immediate attention, but he still worked late, somewhat happy to stay in the office. It gave him confidence and even happiness, this constant reminder that he was worth it, that he had been elected to this position.

There was a soft knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer a person on the other side carefully slid it open and soundlessly stepped inside. Greg tensed. There were no visitors scheduled but the security had let this man pass without any question. Well, that only meant that the questions were left for him to ask.

"Who are you?" Greg did not raise his voice.

The man glanced at him but did not reply, instead silently crossing the room and settling into one of the chairs across from Greg's desk.

Greg Lestrade was not a coward, but as an ex-army man, he could sense danger. This man, sitting gracefully in front of him and regarding him calmly with only a hint of a smile glinting in grey eyes, exuded an air of confidence and power, someone to be afraid of, but not because of their physical power, because of the influence they held in their hands. Unconsciously the Prime Minister glanced at the stranger's hands, clasped on top of his crossed knees.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you." The man said; and now Greg was sure that he caught a fleeting upturn of his lips before his face was schooled into a mask of indifference.

"Not at all," Greg replied, leaning back in his own chair. The man seemed dangerous, but the Prime Minister didn't feel threatened. The prevailing feeling was curiosity. "But I'll be grateful if you answered my previous question."

This time the man allowed Greg to see his smile. "I believe we have already met." He answered. "But I guess you don't remember me. What a shame." A fake sigh and a glance away made a pretty but unconvincing picture.

Instead of asking any more questions Greg looked at the man's face more carefully. A very aristocratic appearance, pale skin, high cheekbones, blue-grey eyes. Handsome in his own way. Pale, thin lips – nothing to look at if not for that half smile and a teasing glint in his eyes accompanying it. Laughing at Greg; mocking the Prime Minister.

But the man was right; his face did seem familiar. "I believe we've met at all those fundraisers and official openings and whatnot. But I don't think we've ever been introduced to each other." Greg remembered noticing a tall man, attractive in an incongruous way, catching his eye once or twice. Though they've never been close enough to start a conversation or even exchange greetings.

The stranger nodded, pleased. "Mycroft Holmes, at your service."

"Gregory Lestrade, Prime Minister." Greg replied in kind.

The man laughed, sound soft falling from his lips. "Believe me I know who you are. Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

"So you have some business with me, Mr. Holmes?"

"Mycroft, please. We will be working for a long time together, after all." He was teasing, playing, giving obscure answers so that Greg would have to press with more questions.

It could have been an interesting game, had the stakes not been quite so high. At 10 Downing Street you do not play with strangers.

"I'm not sure I like this conversation."

"We are on the same side, Prime Minister." The man placated him. "We share the same interest – the well-being of the British nation." Despite the excessive pathos of his words, it sounded sincere. "I'm sorry to say this, I truly am," he did not look sorry in the least. "But there is a lot you do not know about our beloved country."

"Really?"

"Truly," Mycroft nodded. "But now that you have reached this position…" He trailed away, not saying anything concrete, merely implying.

Greg frowned. "Who are you?" He asked sternly.

Mycroft smirked.

"I don't mean your name, Mr. Holmes."

"Well, my dear Prime Minister, I am the man who will be pulling your strings for as long as you occupy this post. Once you resign you will be free from my influence."

"So you want me to resign?" That seemed the most obvious answer. Like hell Greg was going to give up everything he had worked so hard to get.

"I didn't say that."

"Then what?"

"I already explained, Mr. Prime Minister." The mockery was so obvious in his voice.

"So," Greg leaned forward on his elbows. "You are saying that you are going to control my every action." He scoffed. "Yeah, sure."

"Not every action." Mycroft replied with a level of condescension that Greg really didn't appreciate. "Mostly foreign policy, some secret affairs."

"I believe I am familiar with the head of MI6 and he is not you."

"Oh he is a lovely man. And his wife makes delicious pancakes." Mycroft smiled while Greg was trying to quickly come up with another approach to the situation. "Also I am quite sure he'd advise you not to stand in my way."

"What will you do if I go against you?" This was ridiculous; Greg should not even be asking this question, he should not be considering Mycroft Holmes's words. The best course of action would have been to call Security and have this man escorted out of his office. But it was Security who let him in here in the first place. What was going on?

Mycroft sighed, as if all this was such a hardship. "I usually don't take part in what happens at Downing Street, and by that I mean I do not interfere with who is going to be elected as a new Prime Minister, but I do like crushing them down when they start making rush decisions that could only bring grief to my beloved country."

"Such a patriot you are."

"That I am," Mycroft nodded with a smile. But in the next moment it slipped from his face and the warmth disappeared from his grey eyes. "Do we have a deal, Prime Minister?"

"A deal?" Greg repeated incredulously. "I still have no idea who you are. And you are asking me to blindly obey you? Who in their right mind would agree?"

Mycroft looked away with a roll of his eyes. "I so hoped it wouldn't come to petty persuasion."

"Is that a threat? I do not take well to threats." Greg warned. He _knew_ he should call the security – it was a right thing to do according to the protocol and, frankly, to common sense – but Gregory Lestrade had never had much common sense when his own well-being was in question.

"I am not making any threats, Prime Minister," Mycroft replied in a tone that suggested that the mere idea was preposterous. "I'm merely stating that you are more difficult than your predecessor."

Greg kept silent, despite all the new questions running through his head, preferring to wait for the man to continue. He didn't have to wait long.

"Are you familiar with the, so called, 'Bond Air' incident?"

"The plane crash."

Mycroft nodded. "And how much do you know about what had actually happened?"

Greg narrowed his eyes, mistrust rearing up with new force. Who was this man? "I know enough to understand what you are implying."

"Wonderful." The man replied with delight. "Then I only have to say that the whole incident was orchestrated by yours truly," he gave a slight nod. "And you'd understand me completely."

"How can I trust you? A man who broke into my office?"

"That's the thing, Prime Minister. I did not break in. I simply walked in, with no one stopping me. Because, trust me, people close to that one man in power – who is now you – know not to get in my way. I only do what is best for my country."

"That country being?"

Mycroft laughed airily. "Tricky question? It did not work."

Greg smiled despite himself. No matter the circumstances, it was a pleasure – talking to Mr. Holmes. "So you are saying we are going to be working together?" He asked lightly.

"Don't worry, Prime Minister, you will realize that everything I am saying is the truth soon enough." A smirk stretched across his thin lips at the playful tone.

Greg laughed, still not sure what to think of this man and his words. Anyway, he found he rather liked Mycroft. "Then call me Greg."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: I am terribly sorry for such a long wait; I hope there are readers who are still interested in this story.

**Brit-picking**: Riverdancer17.

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"Mr. Holmes, what a lovely surprise!" Greg exclaimed as the door to his office opened to reveal a familiar figure.

"Prime Minister," Mycroft nodded in greeting as he crossed the office to occupy his usual chair.

"How many times will I have to ask you to call me Greg?" The Prime Minister laughed. "Should I order you?"

"I'd like to see you try," Mycroft scoffed haughtily but there was a small smile gracing his features. "Also I think I am allowed to do this since you refuse to call me by my own name."

"Mr. Holmes, your name is too special to use it so carelessly." Greg wasn't sure if the other man realized that the Prime Minister meant it in more sense than one. He never even knew if Mycroft's responses to his flirting had been absolutely unconscious or completely thought through.

"Well then I see that we are stuck, Prime Minister."

"I'm sure we'll find our way out of it." Greg shuffled the folders on his desk just to occupy his hands and, time for subtle flirting over, get back to business. "When are you leaving for Paris?"

"Tomorrow at noon." Mycroft replied readily. "I still have a meeting tonight, late in the evening."

"A meeting or a date?" Greg asked, a completely unnecessary question. There was no reason for him to be so curious about that subject, but for the simple _want_ to know. His tone sounded teasing and he hoped Mycroft wouldn't recognize the note of barely formed jealousy hidden underneath.

"Negotiations."

"Oh well…" Gradually Greg had come to accept that Mycroft Holmes was a bigger force than any government official; he still asked too many questions, wanting to know everything about the man's business affairs, but Greg had come to terms with not being the most influential person in the country. He still got his chance to do something good for the people and most of the official decisions were still his to make…but when the situation proved to be too difficult or too much depended on his decision Mycroft Holmes appeared seemingly out of nowhere and came up with solutions so elegant that there was nothing else to do but to follow them.

The man was genius and Greg had accepted that. His interest in Mycroft's none-political affairs however was something he had been fighting tooth and nail since the day they met.

"Your flight is scheduled today." This wasn't a question but Greg nodded nonetheless. Another restless night – what a fun. He hoped he would have some nice company on that flight but as it turned out Mycroft had some other business to attend to. Just like always.

"Any further instructions?" He asked with dry humor that only got him a glare as an answer.

Mycroft squinted at him. "You should probably get some rest. Tomorrow will be difficult."

Greg smiled, preferring not to dwell on the nature of the other man's concern. He liked to imagine that Mycroft cared about him, not only about the outcome of the assembly. "Anything else I can help you with?" Mycroft would not come to him to simply remind of the evening's flight. Or just to chat – efficiency was always at the forefront of the man's mind. Greg respected him for it, but it would have been nice to get at least one visit just for the sake of them seeing each other. Or maybe Greg was just an old romantic and was imagining things where there was nothing to imagine in the first place. Still, Mycroft Holmes was a smart man, he must be aware of the Prime Minister's attraction to him – and he was not saying no; there had never been an outright rejection and it gave Greg that little fraction of hope.

"That green folder on your right," Mycroft broke into his thoughts with his reply. "I'll need it for my meeting."

Wordlessly Greg picked the mentioned folder and handed it over the table to the other man. Mycroft took it carefully, laying it down in his lap. There was no need for him to look inside, he was perfectly informed about the contents of it – probably even before the Prime Minister had heard about it.

"Thank you."

There was nothing else to say and so they stayed in silence, watching each other. Greg expecting any more requests, orders, advices, Mycroft…who knew what the enigmatic man was thinking about. Minutes passed and then Mycroft just stood up, a folder in one hand and the umbrella clutched in the other, and thanked Gregory for his assistance quietly.

Greg, confused by the silent staring mere moments before, hurried to get to his feet. "Let me walk you to your car."

Mycroft lifted a questioning eyebrow but did not protest as Greg held the door open for him and followed him down the staircase. They walked in silence, Mycroft ahead, but Greg could not shake off the feeling that something had changed, something had shifted in their relationship but so subtly that he could not grasp it, try as he might. So he followed the other man, pondering in silence, and together they exited Downing Street.

Greg went ahead to the black car waiting at the front, waving away the bodyguards so that they could prolong their little moment of privacy. The Prime Minister opened the car door for his one the most precious adviser. He could see Mycroft's surprise in the slight tilt of his head and lifting of his eyebrows but only grinned in response. The expression disappeared quickly, only to reappear again the moment Greg muttered "Have a good flight, Mycroft." Just before he slammed the car door closed after the other man.

Greg grinned to himself, standing at the curb and watching the black car drive away a flustered Mycroft Holmes.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I couldn't really avoid this subject

**Brit-picking and beta-reading:** Riverdancer17.

* * *

"Well, if it isn't the infamous Mr. Holmes." Greg drawled the moment he caught sight of the man.

Mycroft turned, eyes confused and searching for the source of voice, and then, when his gaze fell on the Prime Minister, he frowned but came up to meet the other man half way. "You should be in a meeting." Was the first thing out of his mouth.

"Well, hello to you too." Greg replied, his tone light. "Nice to see you."

Mycroft rolled his eyes, but his demeanor changed, expression softening and tone turning friendlier. "Good evening, Prime Minister. I was merely wondering what had brought you here at this time of the day. I was lead to believe that your meeting was taking longer than usual."

"I managed to sneak out early."

At Mycroft's flat look Greg looked down bashfully and said. "Fine, it just ended but I asked Amelia to inform you that it was still in progress."

"Corrupting your own assistant?"

"Don't you dare remove her." Greg warned sternly, aware what the other man was capable of. He didn't want the poor girl to get fired for helping him.

"I don't appreciate people lying to me." Mycroft replied haughtily.

Greg decided against pointing out that this was what Mycroft himself did a lot. And it was highly unpleasant to be lied to, especially by a person you cared about. Greg just smiled and steered the topic of the conversation. "I had a very good reason to do so." He nodded self-importantly. Then Greg looked around at the people milling about, keeping a polite distance to allow them a parody of privacy but sending them subtle curious glances. It was not the right place for what the Prime Minister had in mind. "Come on," he put a hand on Mycroft's forearm and pushed the man gently in the right direction. "Let's talk in my office."

Once they were hidden from prying eyes, Greg moved his hand from the others forearm to his lower back – a light caress - before letting go and stepping around the man so that they would be face to face. "A week ago," he started in a serious tone. "I obtained a very valuable piece of information."

"Pray tell, what may that be?" Mycroft asked with mild interest. He doubted there was any piece of information the Prime Minister knew that Mycroft had not been aware of. There were times Greg felt offended by such disregard but there was nothing he could do – any intelligence report landed first on Mycroft Holmes's desk and only then was handed to the Prime Minister.

"I was told that you, Mr. Holmes," he pushed at Mycroft's chest with his finger, allowing accusation to seep into his voice. "Have a birthday today. Something that you failed to mention last time we met."

Mycroft glanced down, clearly uncomfortable. "That is not your concern." He said stiffly, but his tone failed to be strict and he didn't meet Greg's eyes. This reaction was new; the Prime Minister allowed himself a moment of speculation – 'I care but do not want you to see this' expression seemed a wonderful assumption. Now if only it were true…

"That is for me to decide." Greg countered. Then his voice softened. "Really, Mr. Holmes, you shouldn't rob me of an opportunity to get you a crazy birthday present."

"How crazy?" Mycroft lifted his eyebrows. A playful glint appeared in his eyes – a clear sign that the man had gotten over his embarrassment.

In his free time Greg liked to play a game of his own imagining 'The ways I can make Mycroft Holmes flustered'. Some of them hadn't worked, a lot were still waiting for the right moment, and the most of them warranted a situation which was unacceptable for their current relationship. After all, Mycroft probably wouldn't be pleased if the Prime Minister had suddenly, but very gently, bit his earlobe, or licked his collarbone – and those were the tamest of his fantasies.

"You'll just have to see for yourself." Greg retorted, setting his fantasies aside for the moment.

"You are aware that I do not like surprises?"

"Yes, but you will like this one. I promise."

"Please, Prime Minister, do not make promises you can't keep. It is the basis of your profession, after all." Mycroft countered but allowed himself to be ushered aside to a less formal part of the office. There was a couch, which they occupied, sitting side by side and a little too close for colleagues but not close enough for friends (lovers), which they were not, and a coffee table with an elongated parcel on it. Mycroft eyed it curiously albeit warily.

"This is your craziness?" He tilted his head to the side and glanced at the other man.

"It's your birthday present." Greg announced proudly. He ran his fingers over the parcel lovingly before pushing it over the polished tabletop, in his subtle way urging Mycroft to open it.

"Do I really want to know what's inside?"

"You will love it," Greg promised once again. Truth be told, he wasn't so sure, but hoped that his confidence would pass to the man he was so desperately trying to impress.

Tentatively, Mycroft reached for the box; it was dark grey and elongated, pretty big, leaving a lot of options for Mycroft's imagination. Carefully he lifted the lid and put it aside. His eyes widened as he noticed the thing inside and a pleased smile graced his lips.

"This…is not a bad surprise." Mycroft allowed his smile to widen as he glanced at the other man.

Greg just laughed. "I guess that is the best compliment I can get from you? But you just wait until I tell you what this lovely thing can do."

Mycroft lifted his eyebrows in curiosity and carefully lifted the new umbrella from its case. It was very much like the one he always used – an old black thing with the paint faded on the creases with a handle made of wood. But this umbrella was brand new, it's colour bordering on black but turning to be rich dark blue with enough lighting. The handle was of pale wood with speckles of warm amber colour, polished to perfection and fitting into his palm. It felt nice in his hand.

Mycroft tore his eyes from the present. "It is lovely. Thank you." The smile that now bloomed on his face was not as wide but even sweeter; he ducked his head, almost shy.

"And it has some great additional functions." Greg announced proudly.

"A brolly? Having additional functions?"

"Well, you always said I watch too many spy movies." The Prime Minister said bashfully.

"You didn't…?"

Greg grinned. "Come on. Let's move somewhere we won't be disturbed and I'll show you everything this little thing is capable of!" He grabbed Mycroft's hand to drag the other man to a room adjoining the office. They wouldn't run the risk being disturbed there. After all, Greg did not want someone to walk in on him explaining Mycroft how to shoot an electric gun hidden at the point of the umbrella or get a knife out of the handle.

He was happy to see that Mycroft seemed pleased with his birthday present.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to Riverdancer17 for beta-work and Brit-picking:)

* * *

"Mr. Holmes, always such a pleasure to see you." Greg cooed, hoping he wasn't coming across as sleazy. That would have quite the opposite effect from what he desired.

Mycroft's face contorted into a confused frown. "You are the one who came to me."

"Yeah," the Prime Minister chuckled. "Never knew you had an office here at Downing St. Came as a surprise to me actually."

Mycroft didn't comment on it but Greg was sure he caught a hint of a smile as the other man turned away. "Always so nondescript." He laughed lightly and Mycroft sent him a playful glare.

"May I enquire after the purpose for your visit?"

"Oh well…" The Prime Minister was so confident, standing just behind the door to this small office, sure that this was what he wanted to do. Sure that he wouldn't be rejected. Now though…his confidence wavered. His words stumbled over each other as he tried to express himself. "You remember the gala at the end of the month…"

"The one at the French embassy? Of course I do."

"Good." Greg nodded; the confirmation was absolutely unnecessary but it gave him a pause before his next words. "I was wondering…if you'd agree to accompany me…?"

Mycroft seemed stunned for a moment; he stood frozen and just stared back at the Prime Minister. After a second he was back to aloof detachment. "I'm sorry but I will have to refuse."

Greg made sure not to let his disappointment show. "Mycroft," he stepped toward the other man. Their eyes locked and the Prime Minister did not let him avert his eyes. "Please, be my date?"

Mycroft was silent, contemplative. He bit his lip, grey eyes soft with regret, and slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry." This time it was more sincere.

"Why not?"

"As your adviser," it was the first time Mycroft had used that word in reference to himself and it sounded wrong coming from his lips. "I'd suggest you take some lovely lady as your date."

"Can't." Greg rejected the idea immediately. He pointed at himself and said with a smile. "I'm the Gay Prime Minister, remember?"

"My intelligence reported that you are bisexual." Mycroft frowned but it lacked his usual sternness.

"True. But those guys on my campaign persuaded me that people won't trust me if they knew. 'How can you decide on a police course if you can't decide on your sexuality?'" Greg quoted with a cringe.

"That's ridiculous."

"Good to know that you agree with me. Now if you'd only agree to be my date…" That was not subtle. Not subtle at all. Such things didn't work well with a man like Mycroft Holmes.

Mycroft looked away again, sheepish. Greg had never seen him this way; the Prime Minister was torn between appreciating the sigh, feeling honored to be allowed to witness it and fighting off the disappointment slowly filling his gut like cold lead. He was determined not to let the confident smile drop.

"I don't want to refuse you for the third time." Mycroft sounded sad.

"Then don't." Some desperation seeped into the Prime Minister's voice. This was such a small thing but he wanted it with fierce passion.

Mycroft shook his head without uttering a word. That's when Greg realized that there was no use in pressuring him anymore. He took a metaphorical step back in their conversation while literally stepping up to the other man so that they stood chest to chest. He looked up into Mycroft's face, eyes roaming over sharp features. "Fine." He relented but his voice was the opposite from defeated. "Then promise me a dance?"

"Dance?"

"Yes. One dance. I'm not asking for more." Greg repeated with conviction. "One dance." He was not going to back off on that.

"When did we start trading?" Mycroft asked.

"One dance."

"I don't remember ever saying there was something I wanted so that you would be acting like that."

"One dance." Greg simply repeated.

"What makes you think there is a chance I'll agree?"

"Because you want it."

There was a pause.

"Just one dance is all I ask." The Prime Minister said softly.

Mycroft was looking at him, contemplatively. Greg could see the moment his resolve crumbled.

"One dance." This time it was Mycroft repeating the words in a soft voice.

"One dance." Greg nodded. It was a small victory but it made him happy.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** This chapter is very small, but I felt like some insight into Mycroft's thoughts was needed.

Also thanks to Riverdancer17 for beta-work and Brit-picking:)

* * *

"One dance," Mycroft muttered under his breath, hidden in the safety of his apartment. Only there could he allow himself a moment of silent consideration – these walls could safely hide his thoughts about a certain ridiculously charming man. "One dance." Gregory had asked for much more but that was how much Mycroft was willing to give. A small thing? No, no, such a huge step backwards for Mycroft; a crack in the shield. Carefully constructed defenses on the verge of being brought down by an open smile and warm brown eyes.

So ridiculous.

Mycroft knew that giving in even a little bit could lead to disastrous consequences – a love affair with the Prime Minister surely could pull the Holmes right into the spot light, making him of interest to all those gossipy journalists and paparazzi. Mycroft didn't need his face on the front page of a magazine – that's what Gregory Lestrade was for; a public figure who people could love or hate. Someone to have the attention of the world while Mycroft was meeting the leaders of the other countries, bargaining with secret services, creating unions and starting wars.

But Gregory was so insistent, so charming and absolutely irresistible. While being handsome, the man also was not lacking in intelligence; it was no wonder people loved him. Even his enemies admired the Prime Minister – and that Mycroft knew for sure, he kept tabs on them all.

The other issue which bothered him was that Gregory seemed to know Mycroft a little too well. For all the short time they spent working together the man could predict Mycroft's reactions, guess his likes and dislikes surprisingly well. It was disturbing but also…nice, in way. Sweet.

The birthday present – a beautifully made umbrella with additional functions that could certainly be useful – still made Mycroft secretly smile to himself. Gregory didn't realize how pleased the present made him. These days Mycroft never left his apartment without it, be it a rainy or a sunny day.

"One dance…" And yet again Mycroft's mind wandered back to that topic. Was it worth it? All the risk of getting attached, of ruining their detached working relationship for one dance? And didn't it mean that he had already gotten attached to Gregory since this was the way his trail of thought was moving? Since when had he even cared? Since he had already agreed?

One dance…

Gregory fought ruthlessly for it, he would pursue the object of his affection during the party and surely wouldn't let Mycroft out of his promise.

Such a peculiar phrase, Mycroft mused, an object of one's affection. The one person that always got Gregory's attention. Mycroft felt flattered. And also pleased.

So stupid.

Mycroft shook his head to dispel such thoughts. It was just one dance at a party with so many guests it would easily go unnoticed. Even if the person dancing with him would be the Prime Minister.

Just one dance. That was Mycroft's condition.

But what if Mycroft wanted more?


End file.
